


the clouds protect me

by mlo



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Happy Ending, Lowercase, M/M, Online Relationship, Physical Abuse, Violence, tyler has no siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 18:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11340747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlo/pseuds/mlo
Summary: tyler depends on the clouds to protect him so his voice doesn't get taken away by the sun as he daydreams about setting his house on fire. he's fine. he's fine.





	the clouds protect me

**Author's Note:**

> kinda inspired by tell me more by edy ! 
> 
> hope u enjoy n stuff :p 
> 
> also i wrote this after i watched stranger things last year soo its mentioned quite a bit. sorry about that

 

 

 

"it's anyone's game now!" josh protests, and you can see the way concentration traces every inch of his face. it's his competitiveness. tyler can picture it in his head.

"you're probably gonna win, i fuckin' hate this game," tyler replies, but he's joking. he despises the game.

"stop bitching," josh says back, but it's a late reply since he's focused entirely on this round of call of duty. its a gun-game round, which tyler is even worse at. you wouldn't think that, no one would.

"speakin' of bitchin', my momma's comin' downstairs. i gotta go in a bit." tyler sighs, starting to get off the couch. he doesn't wanna show the fact that he's scared of her presence, so he keeps his cool. she's already having a bad day, which worries him more.

 

"alright, i'll skype you later maybe?" josh says, the concentration seeping away, because he knows – more like, found out – about tyler and his mom. it's not a good relationship. it's odd.

"yeah, 12am. on the dot, bye," he mumbles rapidly as he shuffles around the living room, cleaning up around him and turning off his ps4. tyler begins to panic, but there's no reason to. he's just used to feeling like his momma's going to attack him verbally, but he never listens anyway. when she speaks, tyler just hears buzzing. he tunes her out, and he has mastered the art of doing just that. it's pure talent. but, it's a gift and a curse. his momma realizes when he does that. his mind travels somewhere different.

that's just because tyler is different. he has always been. he depends on the clouds to protect his innocent little soul and likes to see his fingers bleed if he gets a paper cut. he likes to light things on fire to study them. he locks himself in closets and reads comics he's not interested in but it makes the time pass and it's alright. he likes the sound of police sirens because it reminds him the world can be more unsafe than the presence of his momma. but he's just fine. he's fine, he's fine, he's fine.

"tyler, you down here?" he can hear her yell. tracing back the sound, and the way it echoed around the barely furnished house, she's in the kitchen, perfect. he can make it to the basement, where there's nothing but boxes piled on top of boxes. he likes to go through the items and throw away his mothers things. little things, like items she wouldn't notice went missing.

he carefully walks to the stairs that lead to the basement. only a couple of steps. the seventh step, which is the second-last, creaks, if he steps on it harshly on the left side. he reminds himself not to do that. or to do it, so his mother catches him and yells at him, and he gets to call her out. but he doesn't; he's too tired. he's fine.

he makes it there, soundless and traceless and he falls asleep forty minutes later on the uncomfortable wooden floor but he doesn't mind. (he does). his mother sees him and his eyes open slightly and he pictures her carrying him to his bed and kissing the top of his forehead but she wakes him until he's fully alert and makes him take out the trash. it's fine, he's fine. he's fine.

—

tyler met josh through tumblr. josh owns a gaming blog, and tyler reblogs blood content and gore and scenery that he pictures before he rests but that's on a blog no one knows, instead josh met him through tyler's aesthetic blog. it's soft, pure. like tylers appearance, but far from what goes on in that little head of his.

they've known each other for six months, and continue to call, skype, and play video games together and this is only where tyler genuinely enjoys his existence. not fully, but it's enough. it's enough.

"did your mom do anything last night? you seemed... off." josh asks, after them discussing stranger things season two theories for about an hour. it was 1am now. tyler can hear his heartbeat in his right ear.

"am always off, man," tyler says as a joke, but it's truer than you think.

"i'm serious."

"nothin' went down. t'was fine. an old man, my neighbor, he was choppin' down an old tree of his. i liked that tree, birds always hung out around it. anyways, he was makin' lots of noise, 'n' my momma marched out, yellin' at 'em. her voice cracked all through out, the same way when she's yellin' at me, and maybe that's why my voice is always crackin'? like it's... genetic? is it?" tyler rambles. he's changing the subject. he always does.

"i don't know, tyler, i don't think so," josh says. josh is concerned. it shows in the tone of his voice; humble, and soft. like rain against a car window when you're on your way back from your little brothers soccer game. but tyler had no brother, or sister. it's always been him and his momma.

"i'll look it up," tyler says. he doesn't care. but he loves knowing random facts, to impress people, or himself. he liked to schmooze, when he had the opportunity to do so. people never cared to listen anyway. josh wasn't like that.

"tyler, you alright there bud?" josh asks, after tyler stays silent for a bit. tyler had skype on half of his laptop screen, and the other half was a yahoo answers page.

"hm? oh, yeah," tyler says. he's distracted. again, he always is.

"anyways, let's go back to the theories, maybe. i don't want to think eleven's gone, y'know... but where could she be? the upside down? maybe."

"she's trapped, like me." tyler says. he isn't thinking. he's mumbling the first words that come to mind. odd kid.

"what does that mean?"

"you know how, when your body is movin' around and stuff, but your mind... it's trapped. in an on going cycle where it's leading you somewhere light but you're constantly goin' somewhere dark, and it's not cozy. it's scary... that's the trapped that i am. but her trapped, is physical, maybe."

josh doesn't say anything. he doesn't know what to say, so he stays silent. tyler doesn't notice. or he does, and it disappoints him, but he makes it seem like he's so distracted. he's not, he wants to hear josh's thoughts.

after about 10 minutes of josh playing bloodbourne and looking up at the tv screen above him, and tyler going through pages and pages of google, tyler speaks.

"it isn't, i guess."

"hm?" josh says a second later.

"voice cracking, it isn't genetic. guess am just messed up."

—

tyler's mind is playing a game with him. he doesn't like this game, but he plays along. his mind's giving him a sense of confidence that he rarely feels. although tyler speaks constantly, even if his talks contain and revolve around weird subjects no one's interested in, he's not confident. he thinks it's because of the lack of a father-figure in his life. or mother-figure.

but confidence strikes him in the chest and he talks back, to his momma. she hates it, and it shows. she's gotten back from working shifts and she's exhausted, but so is tyler, mentally. he's always tired. so she's no exception.

"tyler, if you know what's best for you, go to your room. it's no time for this." she spits out. tyler imagines locking all exits of this house and setting it on fire, but he'd lose most of his things if it's done wrong.

"are you threatening your own son?" he jokes, and he already knows he's way past crossing the line.

"that's enough, tyler!" she yells, and he doesn't mind.

"i could say the same thing to you momma, i could say the same thing." he says, and she yells back and he zones out like he always does, tuning the harshness of her voice and rushes upstairs after being sent to his room for the 3rd time and skypes josh, and listens carefully to the softness of his voice.

"josh, have you ever felt violent?" tyler speaks out of nowhere, typical tyler. they were binge watching stranger things, but tyler had netflix minimized and the skype page taking over most of the screen. he focused on josh's features and how he reacted to certain scenes.

"what?" josh says. he pauses the show.

"violence, have you felt it? extreme, head-smashin, skull crackin violence," tyler mumbles. josh notices the way he mumbles.

"uh, nah, not really. my parents always thought these games made me think violently but i think it's the opposite."

"what about violence towards your parents?" tyler asks afterwards.

"no, fuck that, why?"

"i... don't know," but he does know, he's too afraid to say it, which is unusual. he doesn't want josh to think of him weirdly. tyler isn't weird. he isn't. he's fine. he's normal.

"let's just keep watching, yeah? or you seem tired, are you tired?" josh says. he's too caring, and tyler is not used to it, but needs it.

"no." he simply answers. tyler is never simple. he's full of color, spirit, curiosity. major curiosity. he's vivid, and he's what josh cares about most at this point.

—

"i wanna meet you, josh," tyler says, out of the blue. they were talking to each other on the phone and it's been three hours now. tyler's laptop screen was playing an episode of friends, but it was on mute. it was 2:40am.

"i can say the same thing," josh replies, and it's genuine. he wants to meet tyler, he's just afraid to. they both are.

"then say it,"

"i wanna meet you."

"good." tyler responds. he turns up the volume on his phone, josh's voice wasn't loud enough. he realizes josh's voice is just at the right volume, but the sound coming from outside his room is bothering him. he doesn't like it, it's too loud. he can't concentrate on josh's voice like this.

it's his momma, she's coming up the stairs, and she'll probably not come into tyler's room. but she does, and tyler wasn't mentally prepared for it. he's freaking out. his body language shows it, but it's too dark. the only source of light in his room was his laptop.

tyler hangs up out of nowhere, and he feels bad, but he throws that feeling out the window.

'tyler, you're gonna get that phone and laptop taken away if this behavior doesn't stop.' 'tyler, you need to get out the house more.' 'tyler, everybody's always asking about you. it's embarrassing.'

his phone and laptop get taken away. he's anxious, and he chews his bottom and top lip so ridiculously, they bleed. they don't stop, for about five minutes.

he can't stand not having his phone around, because he never knows what the time is. everything revolves around time. he feels an itch that he just can't get to and it's driving him crazy and what the fuck is the time?

he wants to hear josh. he's scared. how's he going to explain this to josh? he's eighteen, doing nothing to help him get a brighter future, lives with his mom because he can't depend on himself. he's ashamed. josh can't know, but he will. tyler never talks about these things with him.

'get out the house more, tyler.' fine. and so, he does. not through his front door, or back door either, of course. this is tyler we're talking about. he crawls out the window. in his past house, the house he basically grew up in, he had a window, the size of him basically. right below it, was a railing. broken, but still a railing. it made it easy to escape in the middle of the night, to get away from his raging mother. it relieved him.

in this new house, it's smaller, and tyler's body grew larger. but he still made it work, falling quite badly but managed to keep it silent. his elbow was bleeding, he didn't care. he never did. he always did.

the clouds, they were barely there. peeking through a starless sky, so black it made tyler feel like the smallest boy on earth. he was lost in space. lost in thought. he steps into a puddle, forgetting he was wearing socks. he doesn't care, but he does.

he disappears through the night, soundless. a boy lost in his dreams, lost in the idea of a boy through a screen and lost in an array of genuine anger yet fear felt towards his momma. he's lost. he doesn't care, but he does. he's fine. he's fine. he's not fine.

a home, broken but still a home, one he always drove by whenever he left the house, which was rare, was located near where he lived. tyler always wondered about that house. constant wonder. it's abandoned, intriguing, scary. what tyler likes. he walks to it. he doesn't realize it's far.

but the curiosity he had for this house reminded him of childhood. not his childhood, where he was mainly scared rather than curious. it's both now. but the idea of childhood, in general. the endless questions children always spoke but tyler kept in mind, and now he's blurting them out. to josh, mainly. mostly. only.

josh. what's he thinking right now? he's not too far away, but this abandoned house isn't either and it's making tylers legs ache. tyler enjoyed josh's company, even if it wasn't physical company. company is company. josh was possibly the only being that didn't mind tyler's occurring strange thoughts, the ones he says that belong to his mind only, but he blurts them out, mumbling. to josh and to josh only.

but josh never was one to mind. but tyler always wondered what josh's feeling were, if they were ever sexual, or just platonic towards tyler. maybe tyler's just a cocky self-centered prick who thinks just because josh doesn't tell tyler to shut the fuck up, he suddenly wants his dick up tyler's ass. maybe it's both, friendly and sexual. maybe it's neither.

however, tyler wasn't sure himself what his own feelings were towards josh, but he did like him, and he wasn't going to ruin it. tyler never knew the difference between true love and infatuation, because he's never felt any.

the house, standing in front of him, was friendly. to tyler, it was. welcoming, almost. if it was painted and christmas lights were hung all around and there were shrubs around the fences, but all those things weren't there. it was still welcoming. and so, he enters.

he falls asleep, on the floor in one of the rooms upstairs, laying under a bed of stars he imagines in his head. tyler always thought that not being able to see many stars was unsettling.

—

he was initially going to get back his belongings in a week. he thought his mom was crazy for doing that. she couldn't do that. he wouldn't allow it.

so, he steals them, whilst his momma was out the door. he wanted to lock it and never allow her back in but she'd find a way in, she always did. she always did.

after taking his things, and realized it was 5pm, the only thing he cared to do was instantly call josh. it hasn't even been a full 24 hours but he wanted josh to know he was okay. he wasn't. he will be.

he calls josh, and he picks up almost instantly.

"josh," tyler says. he doesn't mumble.

"tyler, hey, you alright? what happened last night?" he sounds concerned, but he always is when it comes to tyler. josh doesn't know why.

"momma was bein' a bitch, took my shit away. found a cool place though, kept thinkin' bout' us meetin 'n' goin' there," tyler explains. he avoids the subject of his mother.

"what was the place?" josh picks up the signals. he makes a note in his mind to not bring up tyler's mother any time soon.

"this abandoned house three blocks away from my house, ended up fallin' asleep there for a few hours,"

he then fell asleep listening to josh's voice through skype.

—

tyler had a very interesting childhood, to say the least. since his parents got divorced when he was three, and his mom won custody of him, he was constantly going from house to house. it was tiring, ending up in his mothers house. he enjoyed the company of his father.

his father was a lot of things, but a bastard wasn't one of them. he traveled across the country to explore the strangest of areas and corners of america in a sturdy rv with a pal of his. he might've gotten his love for adventure from his father.

as for his mother... she was a lot of things and caring wasn't one of them. she let things get in the way of raising her kid, and all he ever wanted was to fall asleep while she sung him a lullaby but instead he was curling up to his own bed listening to the sound of a tv show his mom was watching in the other room.

tyler was now curled up in bed, a can of coke in one hand, scrolling through the youtube comments on a conspiracy theory video. he was also skyping josh, but no one was speaking. it was one of those nights where they needed each other's company but no one felt the need to speak. but tyler did, after a bit.

"let's run away together one day,"

"hm?" josh says.

"let's run away together, one day." tyler repeats.

"if we did, where would we go?" josh asks.

"as far away from here as humanly possible," tyler says, and it's genuine. he really does want to get the fuck out of here. he hates it. more than call of duty.

"why though?" josh says. he doesn't want to press into the conversation of tyler's personal life, but he continued to do so. he didn't know why.

"it's too loud, and there's little to no clouds here, most of the time,"

"what's up with you and clouds?" josh asks. it doesn't sound harsh.

"they protect me,"

"i can do the same," josh thinks he says it in his head, but he doesn't. tyler showed a shocked expression. he wasn't speechless though, he never was.

"what? protect me?" tyler says.

"i didn't mean to say that," josh says, and tyler could tell he was starting to get nervous. josh was never nervous, from tyler's knowledge.

"i'm glad you did."

—

the night after that, tyler got smacked in the face by his momma. it was sudden, too quick for tyler to react in a way where he would be able to defend himself. even if he could, he wouldn't. he would. he's scared. the last time she hit him was when he was seven, it was a light smack in the arm, and it didn't even bruise. this didn't either, but his face was red.

they were arguing, and the confidence overcame tyler again. he regrets it. he doesn't. he felt like grabbing a butchering knife and ending his momma's life, but he doesn't. of course he doesn't.

he doesn't tell josh, and refuses to skype him. josh says he doesn't mind. he does. he needs tyler just as much as tyler needs josh. tyler does need josh.

he calls josh, though. but he doesn't sound the same. josh is too observant. he realizes. tyler hangs up again. he regrets it. he does.

—

the night after that, tyler accidentally sliced his finger and bled all over the island of the kitchen and forgot to clean it up. it wasn't his fault though, he was grabbing bandaids from his room. he fought with his momma again. he tells josh.

the night after that, he gets smacked again. he didn't load the dishwasher. he doesn't tell josh. he doesn't call him either. he falls asleep to the sound of his old neighbor chopping down another tree.

the night after that, he got pulled by his collar. he got smacked in the face. he doesn't remember why, he was zoning out. that was probably why. he tells josh. he breaks down.

"josh, i-please, hear me out, i-i need y-you, I think, p-please," he says in between sobs. he doesn't cry much. he's been bottling it up. it's never good to do that.

"tyler, what's wrong? what happened? oh god," he instantly responds, and reacts.

"my momma's a fuckin' bitch and i wanna fucking get out. i-i, just, wanna get the fuck out, josh, p-please, i can't take no more hittin'," he's a sobbing mess. emphasis on the word mess.

"wait, hitting? tyler, what's going on? c'mon," he says, worry as clear as crystal in his voice. tyler can hear the tv outside. if he hears that goddamn tv again, he'll throw up. he throws a pillow at the door. "SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!" he screams at the door, his voice hoarse now. he's tired. he's so fucking tired and his other pillows soaked and he hates it and hates this and wants josh. he wants josh so fucking bad.

"tyler?"

"fuck, sorry – i just can't deal with her anymore josh, please,"

josh doesn't understand what tyler means by please, but he doesn't question it, and asks tyler for his location. as tyler goes in to send it, his momma walks in with a face so evil  
you'd mistake it for the devil. at least that's how tyler sees her. evil. pure evil.

he gets his things taken away.

—

tyler's a sobbing mess and he doesn't understand. he won't stop crying, and he feels like a dumb fucking idiot and it's too hot in here and he's sweating through his shirt and the air is too thick — he's silent.

tyler is never silent. he always had something to say. but now, with no one to say it to (no josh), he has run out of words. his throat feels sore. the inner part of his knee and wrists feel sensitive and he presses down hard against his veins and nearly screams. he wants josh. he wants to be free. he wants to leave. he can't leave.

so he sits in the corner of his bathroom, hugging his knees. he's not crying. he's empty. verbally and emotionally.

he wants his phone. he wants to hear josh. and so, he gets up. he's fine, he thinks to himself. you're fine. he's fine. he isn't fine. he's far from it.

he leaves his room. his momma's rooms locked. he tries again. locked. no luck. he won't accept it. he grabs a chair and throws it against the door and it breaks slightly. it's too loud. his ears hurt. he hates this. the door breaks, a hole small enough for his arm to go through and unlock the door from the inside. luckily, the keys still inserted into the keyhole. he unlocks it. he scratches his arm.

his momma's in there, she was sleeping, but now she's up and she has never been so angry and tyler's never been so scared but he doesn't give a fuck and grabs his phone from his drawer and runs so fast to his room. his momma was walking behind him, yelling, but tyler is already crying and he can't focus on the words she's saying. he goes in his room, and slams it shut. he owns no key. the sun must've hidden it. he's too weak to move his dresser to block the door. he goes in his bathroom and locks it. he doesn't care.

josh. josh. josh. he calls josh, no answer. it's 4am. he's going to break down again if he doesn't hear josh's voice.

he doesn't end up hearing it that night.

—

he wakes up to a soar throat and his body aches from sleeping against a tiled floor and he instantly grabs his phone. it's 7pm. 15 missed calls from josh. way too many messages for him to count. he reads them all, one by one. he decides to text him instead of calling; his voice isn't there, it's lost. the sun has taken it.

_josh_

**tyler holy fuck**  
**where are you? are you okay?**  
**tyler**

 _home, where else would i be_  
_and define okay_

**safe, are you safe?**

_idk_  
_yes_  
_maybe?_

 **what does that mean.**  
**tyler answer my calls**

_my voice is gone_

**oh**

_sorry about last night_  
_shit got taken away from me again_

 **don't be sorry, ever**  
**you did nothing wrong**

_i have_

**you haven't**

_how do you know_

**because i do**

_come get me_  
_please_

**i will**

_you will?_

**i will**

—

the night after that, 11:30pm to be exact, josh was parked near tyler's house. the sun was so close to swallowing him whole but he made it through the day and now it's the clouds and he feels so much safer.

he leaves the house, through the window of course. he put his dresser in front of his bedroom door to barricade the entrance. he doesn't glance back at the room. he gathers things he loves the most, and hates the most. a picture of his mom. only to burn. only to destroy. he doesn't end up doing that. he just throws it away.

he sees joshs car, and walks to it. hands in the pockets of his hoodie. he hopes that seeing josh will be better than this cloudy sky.

it is.

stepping into the passenger seat, tyler was the first to speak.

"get me the fuck out of here."

—

thirty nights after that, he's cuddled up and clinging onto josh wearing boxers and josh's shirt as they, yet again, rewatch stranger things.

"she's trapped, but not like me."


End file.
